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Most delicately hour by hour
With lips depress’d as he were meek,
The poet in a golden clime was borr.,
With golden stars above ; Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn,
The love of love.
He saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill,
He saw thro' his own soul. The marvel of the everlasting will,
An open scroll,
Before him lay: with echoing feet he threaded
The secretest walks of fame : The viewless arrows of his thoughts were headed
And wing’d with flame,
Like Indian reeds blown from his silver tongue,
And of so fierce a flight,
Filling with light
And vagrant melodies the winds which bore
Them earthward till they lit;
The fruitful wit
Cleaving, took root, and springing forth anew
Where'er they fell, behold,
A flower all gold,
And bravely furnish'd all abroad to fling
The winged shafts of truth, To throng with stately blooms the breathing spring . Of Hope and Youth.
So many minds did gird their orbs with beams,
Tho' one did fling the fire.
Of high desire.
Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the world
Like one great garden show'd.
Rare sunrise flow'd.
And Freedom reard in that august sunrise
Her beautiful bold brow,
Melted like snow.
There was no blood upon her maiden robes
Sunn’d by those orient skies ;
Of her keen eyes
And in her raiment's hem was traced in flame
Wisdom, a name to shake
And when she spake,
Her words did gather thunder as they ran,
And as the lightning to the thunder Which follows it, riving the spirit of man,
Making earth wonder,
So was their meaning to her words. No sword
Of wrath her right arm whirld, But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word
She shook the world.
THE POET'S MIND.
Vex not thou the poet's mind
With thy shallow wit:
For thou canst not fathom it.
Dark-brow'd sophist, come not anear;
All the place is holy ground; Hollow smile and frozen sneer
Come not here. Holy water will I pour
Into every spicy flower
In your eye there is death,